


Retrouvailles

by OccasionallyCreative



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing but secretly in love: the Han Solo and Leia Organa school of flirting, F/M, Jedi Rey, Mutual Pining, Senator Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8965123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/pseuds/OccasionallyCreative
Summary: : The joy or happiness of reuniting with someone after a long separation.Six months ago, Ben Solo was removed from Rey's side and his uncle's Jedi Academy to take up his mother's mantle as Senator, and to act representative of the Resistance. He has already claimed the reputation of a troublemaker. After Han Solo requests Luke and Rey act as Ben's security intel at a ball in Coruscant, it is underneath the pressure of galactic politics that her world and his new world collide.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NatMatryoshka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatMatryoshka/gifts).



> Prompt from NatMatryoshka: "Padawan Rey and Senator Ben Organa Solo: Rey and her master Luke escort young Senator Ben Organa for a noisy party in Coruscant. What will happen?"
> 
> Happy New Year Reylo peeps! May 2017 not seek to kick us all as hard in the teeth as 2016 has. 
> 
> This story has been edited but has not been through a beta, so any mistakes are my own. Hopefully, I've managed to do justice to the prompt and I hope you all enjoy it! So much love to every single one of you, and a shout out to the peeps in the 'Ring in the Reylo' chat. You guys, even if you didn't know it, helped me get through the boggiest sections of this fic, and spurred me on towards its end. Thank you.

Rey could not pinpoint the moment her decision was made. It was made in a half daze, following a path carved out by dreams of water crashing on shores and well-worn steps. A little girl, she had been nothing more than young, boots filled with vestiges of sand crashing onto the stone, with no thoughts of turning back. Salt air had flooded her tongue, catching the strands of her brown hair as she climbed each step.

She snapped her eyes open. The same ocean air touched her cheek, threading through the low mouth of the temple. Rey shook her head and rubbed at her nape. The younglings before her had their eyes closed and thoughts calm. They didn't notice her.

“Kid, as a favour to me.” The words were caught in the wind, just about audible. Rey smiled at the pleading tone.

“Han.” Quiet contest permeated in her Master’s address. She closed her eyes, drawing the Force into her body, letting the calm of the younglings overtake her. “I cannot.”

“It’s a favour to Leia, as much as it is to me. I’d take him myself, but he’s being difficult enough as it is—”

Hesitation kissed her skin. Her eyelids fluttered. She clamped them shut.

A question came from one of the younglings closest to her. It was a soft curiosity, and from a familiar source. Rey opened one eye. Arali’s silvery eyes widened. Her lekku gently swayed at her back as she tilted her head, urging an answer. Her Rutian lineage was clear in her blue skin and silver eyes. For a moment, Rey envied her the luxury. Letting out a breath, she smiled at Arali and pressed a finger to her lips. Obedient, the young Twi’lek lowered her head.

Getting to her feet Rey bent her head as she departed out into the island’s harsh winds.

“Master,” she said softly, approaching him and Han, adjusting the lightsaber at her hip. “The younglings…”

“Of course,” Luke replied. He smiled at Han, who glowered back. They were old friends, and on the lonely nights, when there was no warm blanket to slip underneath, no dark-haired boy to whisper secret confidences to, she amused herself with remembering the conversations shared between Han and her master, the both of them wrinkled around the eyes but only one of them with enough confidence to still call the other ‘kid’. Her master moved them away from the temple, and they walked the narrow stony path down to the cluster of huts.

Luke’s hut was a place well known to his students. Old trinkets, picked up from adventures he was yet to make into stories, lay scattered around the circular structure in an order known only to her master. Artoo, stood among the trinkets, beeped in greeting at Han. Two cushions sat in the centre of the hut. Her master sank to his knees. Han sat cross-legged on the other, and Rey stood beside Artoo, folding her hands in front of her.

“You have to understand why I can’t go, Han,” her master began, but Han shook his head.

“Hell, I can look after the kids – it’s only a couple of days you need to be away.”

“Coruscant is too far, even for a couple of days.”

“I can look after the children, Master.”

“Han is demanding the two of us go to Coruscant, Rey,” Luke said, with a withering smile he aimed at Han. “Apparently I’m not enough to protect the Senator.”

“I never said that.”

“The Senator?” Rey blinked.

“Is to attend a ball in Coruscant, and is in need of an escort.” Her master’s eyes twinkled. “Two, if Han is to be believed.”

“I’d only ask for one of you to go, but the Senator—” Han's tone dropped with the address and Rey hid a smile, “isn’t making things particularly easy. Especially when he keeps disappearing off somewhere. Won’t tell anyone where however much they badger him. Too damn stubborn.”

“What’s the purpose of this ball?” Rey asked, glancing between her mentor and Han.

Han shrugged. “I didn’t get the details, but it’s important to the Resistance. Especially after the last six months.”

A silence crowded the small hut. Luke closed his eyes, taking in a soft breath. He nodded once as he opened his eyes.

“We will go. The Jedi is always here to help the Resistance. Rey, make yourself ready.”

“I’ll give you the ship I came on; you can make your way to Coruscant on that,” Han said, standing and making his way towards the hut’s exit. He glanced at Luke. “Just bring it back in one piece. The Falcon’s too recognisable these days, and we’ve only got limited ships back on D’Qar.”

“You forget I’m not Lando,” her master said with a laugh.

 _You’ll be okay without me?_  A question she hadn’t answered, ignoring the Force pricking at her skin with her eyes shut tight. Artoo beeped an indignant goodbye to his master. Luke laughed and pressed a hand to the droid’s surface.

“No, you’ll be coming, Artoo.” He gave a gentle smile. “I’ve learned.”

Rey ducked out of the hut and walked back up the stone steps. The younglings smiled as she greeted them, and she hugged each one of them, kissing them on their foreheads and squeezing their hands in farewell. As with every time she left them, she promised them she'd return. They laughed and told her, in overlapping voices, that they knew.

* * *

The familiar gold protocol droid stood in the area of the landing bay, one arm already held up in greeting as Luke brought in the ship to land. It was an old supply ship, plain enough to be considered a non-threat. Artoo rolled down the ramp, followed by Luke and Rey. The air around them was thick and unnatural, without a breeze. She brushed at her robes, her eyes lowered as the protocol droid approached them.

“Master Skywalker, Rey, how good it is to see you! It has been such a long time. Welcome to Coruscant, and welcome to 500 Republica. And Artoo, my old friend!” Artoo beeped at C-3PO, who smacked him soundly in reply. “Well, I’ve half a mind to send you to be dismantled for calling me that, you glob of grease! Come now, quickly. The Senator has ordered me to escort you to his apartments on your arrival.”

Rey hid a smile as she and her master followed Threepio into the turbolift. Through its glass, she watched the blurs of Coruscant’s endless traffic. The sun was setting, its rays reflected in fractals against the high glass towers. They speeded up the levels until they reached the top. The lift doors opened. The endless traffic still cluttered the sky and Rey suddenly longed for the open spaces of Ahch-To. Here, her throat felt dry and her lightsaber felt limp and useless. Cool air, cloying and sweet, blasted them when they stepped into the reception room.

Bespoke furniture held enough room for an army, faces on a loop attached to the wall, silent holovids of stories and well-known memories. A holovid, flooded blue, showed her master as a young man, standing beside a young Han Solo. Medals hung from their necks. General Organa stood behind them, all of them celebrating with wide smiles the fall of the first Death Star. The stories of that battle, even now, spoke of triumph, of celebrations that lasted for months. The celebration in the holo was nothing more a moment. A shared smile between the three figures was the loop.

They walked along the patterned carpet while Threepio chattered. Rey looked over the rest of the reception room. A balcony jutted out at the left side of the room, standing high over the view of Coruscant. The sun was below the horizon of towers, flooding the sky with fire. They turned left as they stepped into the bronze-coloured corridor.

Rey felt her master glance down at her.

“Wait outside while I speak to the Senator,” he said kindly. Rey tilted up her head, finding him. She nodded.

“Yes, Master. Thank you,” she added as they approached a set of high arched doors. Standing back, Rey watched as Threepio pressed a code into a panel and the doors slid open.

“Okay, yeah – see you in a minute, Ben,” an eager voice said.

“Senator,” came the curt reply, the speaker unseen. Rey cleared her throat, shifting her weight. A throaty laugh was the final word between the two people in the study.

A man strolled out of the room. He had tanned skin and a natural curl to his black hair. With dark trousers and a white shirt, he wore a brown and red leather jacket. A blaster was strapped to his side.

An orange and white BB unit rolled alongside him, bumping into its master’s foot as its master stopped in his path, seeing Luke. His casual smile left him, and he bowed his head.

“Sir,” he said, awe in the respect. “My name’s Poe Dameron.”

“Pleased to meet you, Poe,” Luke replied. “This is my padawan, Rey. Your droid?”

“BB-8, one of a kind,” Poe said, ducking to the side so the droid could roll forward. Rey smiled, though her smile fell as her eyes traced over the droid.

“Your antenna’s bent,” she said to the droid’s inquiring beep. She knelt down as Luke and Artoo departed through the doors. She ignored the languid greeting that came through the closing doors. Leaning over the droid, she picked out the antenna and worked at it, rubbing it between her finger and thumb.

“Hey thanks,” said Poe, sinking down onto one knee beside her. “Didn’t notice that.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. It had been years since the heat of Jakku. Since trading parts for food to help her survive, but the innate desire to repair, to take things and put them back together, had never left her. It made her a good Jedi, had said a dark-haired boy back when he’d found her fixing one of their master’s old trinkets. She glanced towards the closed doors.

“You just met with the Senator?”

“Just delivering updates. He demands them on occasion.”

“Only on occasion?”

Poe gave an already familiar throaty laugh. “When he feels like it.”

“That sounds like him.”

“You know him?”

Rey snapped her head up. Her throat felt dry again. Poe shifted. His brow dipped into a frown. He tilted his head.

“Did I say something—?”

“No, no.” She returned her attention to the BB droid, re-attaching its antenna. The droid beeped its thanks. Rey leant back and stood. “There. He’s fixed.”

“Thanks again. C’mon BB-8.” Poe grinned at her over his shoulder as he re-entered the study. “See you around Rey.”

Her master exited out into the corridor, Artoo at his side. 

His shoulders were sunk forwards. He wore a thoughtful frown. His concern was palpable, something she could feel within herself. She opened her mouth, immediately closing it again. She felt her master’s concern change.

“I feel your hesitation, Rey.” She pushed away from the urge to shake her head and stood still.

Gently he pressed his hand into her shoulder. She breathed, calming, and lifted her head.

“How is the Senator?" she asked, voice low. "Is he well?”

“The Senator – it has been a long time since you last met.” Rey hid a wry smile at his tone. He spoke with care, a delicate care, his eyes sliding towards the doors. “You are both much changed.”

Behind them, BB-8 led the way out of the study. Rey kept her attention on Poe. He was engaged in conversation about the Resistance, names and locations exchanged in a murmur. Her eyes drifted towards the Senator. A pale pampered creature stood before her.

His black Jedi robes were gone. Her gaze drifted briefly towards his hip but there was nothing except a belt, red and lined with gold. His robes, the stiff-collared woven robes of a Senator, were the same; a deep rich crimson sewn together by a golden thread. His cloak came down to flutter around the toes of his boots. A large golden brooch pinned the heavy velvet cloak to his right shoulder. His dark hair came down to his neck in prepared waves, his chin shaven. A far cry from the ruffled curls and the prickly stubble he once wore with grinning pride, ignorant of his uncle’s quiet disapproval of his scruffy appearance.

“So you’re my prison guard.” Languid sarcasm, heavy from the full lips of a permanent frown. Rey squared her shoulders, her nerves quickly fading before the unfamiliar creature.

“You feel that oppressed?”

“When forced to do things I’ve no intention of doing. Dameron, you can go. The new information will prove—” a smirk crossed his lips, “somewhat useful.”

Poe gave a half-mocking salute before he left. Following its master, BB-8 bumped Rey’s leg in farewell. Senator Organa turned away sharply, walking on down the corridor. His shoulders were thrown back, his head held high and his walking pace even. He held his hands at his waist. His cloak flapped out behind him.

“This ridiculous ball isn’t until tomorrow. Threepio,” he said to the waiting droid, waving a dismissive hand, “show them to their rooms.”

“I can remember when he slouched,” Luke said, amused. “But he was a boy then.”

“He still is a boy,” Rey snapped, staring after the Senator, the words out before she could catch them. Her master glanced at her, tilting an eyebrow.

Avoiding his eye, she hurried to follow C-3PO.

* * *

She remembered overhearing stories of dreamsilk told by mothers to their children as they passed through the sands of Jakku, speaking myths of canopies that would snatch away the nightmares. She slept in the softest thing she owned, the boots she had woven from scraps of Govath-wool, and wondered if they could do the same.

The doors to the opulent rooms slid open. Rey stepped out into the dark. Occasional light of the traffic flooded through the window blinds. The bronze walls looked an earthy brown, the pattern of the carpet unknown. Each footstep was soft on the carpet. She wandered, her head lowered. The memory of the soft dreamsilk itched her palms.

Walking down the corridor, she passed her master’s room, located at the right of her room.

Stood above the high arch of the Senator’s study, the old symbol of the Alliance was carved from sapphire. Gold bursts of sun rays surrounded it. The symbol of the New Republic.

Rey pressed in the code she’d observed from Threepio. The doors slid open. A long wooden desk stood in the centre of the room, an empty chair stood behind it. A low heat covered the carpet. Rey wiggled her toes against the material, too aware of her bare feet. She closed her eyes and imagined the hard rock of Ahch-To. The ever-present ocean and its crashing waves. The birdsong.

She opened her eyes, and let out a soft gasp. To the right of the wide office, a large bed stood, tucked into a spacious alcove. Slats of light from the traffic landed in slats across Senator Organa’s bare torso. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly apart in sleep. He had one arm tucked behind his head, the other thrown over his stomach. The bedsheets, the same dreamsilk that were still etched in memory on her skin, pooled around his lower stomach.

“Childish,” she said under her breath, turning to leave.

“Mmph.” The soft stirring sounded behind her. She froze. It was a familiar sound, and the memory stilled her. A sleepy smile underneath an expanse of stars, the scratch of his stubble at her temple as his arms automatically welcomed her. Rey swallowed. She turned back.

Slowly, the Senator stirred. The hand he had at the back of his head threw itself over his eyes, rubbing his sight free from sleep. Propping himself up on his elbows, he sat up. An unfamiliar smile crossed his features.

“Wanted something?”

“The rooms you gave me,” Rey replied, remembering her purpose. “The offer is kind, but I refuse it.”

The Senator’s smile hesitated, his brow briefly dipping into a frown. Sitting up further, he slid out of the large bed, pushing the silk sheets from his body. Fully bare before her, he carried no hesitation as he walked down the steps into the main study. His footsteps were silent. His brow creased into a deeper frown, his brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He came to a stop before her. His hands hung at his sides, and he tilted his head. His frown became a curl, a sneer in his upper lip.

“You’d rather sleep on a rock, I suppose. Underneath the stars.”

“It was good enough for you too once, Ben.”

His fingers held her wrist. She glanced down. Her breath trembled, his skin warm on hers. She remembered his thumb, stroking circles into her palm, a soft song sung into her ear. His fingers curled firmly against her wrist. She stumbled back as he stepped forward. Her back hit the high wall, her eyes finding his hand settling beside her head. He leant towards her. His frown had faded, back into something inscrutable. Something she’d seen only once.

“Senator,” he said.

His coldness brought her courage. She tilted her head up, fully studying him. “I kindly request you let me go.”

A smirk merged into his frown. His fingers slid from her wrist.

“You’ll call me Senator,” he said to her silence.

He stepped back and turned away from her, returning to his bed. After a moment, Rey hurried to the doors. Punching in the code, she left.

She walked until she was in the reception room. Exiting onto the balcony, the cloying scent of the false air left her. Before her now was the noise of Coruscant, the whirr and rush, acres of glass towers, reaching up into the night sky and falling down past the horizon.

“Good evening, Rey.”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her master.

“I felt your anger. It woke me,” he answered, finding her question before she could find it herself. “I figured you must’ve been arguing with Ben.”

She rolled her eyes. He prided himself on being able to read his students better than they themselves could. Once he stopped being able to read them, that was when they were ready. Sometimes, it was a pain.

“Even when he was on Ahch-To,” Luke continued, amusement entering his tone, “I could sense when you two had argued. I’ve never known two people to be made so angry by the other.”

“You didn’t separate us.”

“I went through a Rebellion with my sister and Han.” Her master grinned. “Now the New Republic exists.”

Rey scratched the back of her hand. “With the threat of the First Order.”

“The Dark side has always taken many forms, Rey. It needs all of us to overcome it. Even Senator Organa.”

“I don’t remember him—” she swallowed, “like this. He’s arrogant and stubborn and—”

“It’s easy to look at the past with kind eyes.” She glanced to her master. He stared out at the twinkling lights of the city. She followed his gaze. Beyond those lights, there were the stars, the other planets that made up galaxies. They were imperceptible below the buildings and speedsters. Her master sighed.

“Once mistakes are accepted, they fade from history,” he said softly. “It is only one person who must take up the memories – the consequences of the action. Get some sleep,” he said, turning away from the balcony. His smile was returned, but his eyes were sad. It was a look she had seen many a time. She’d never probed, never investigated. There were whispers of the cause, but it was not her place. She had other mysteries to solve, other paths to follow. Her master’s past wasn’t one of them.

“Senator Organa has many enemies, and they would all like to see him never leave Coruscant.”

“Why’s that?” His words about the past weighed heavy on her. Her silence, in the face of a boy’s departure, weighed heavier than it ever had.

“Ben wears his bloodline with pride. His enemies would rather the son of Leia Organa never stepped on the surface of Hosnian Prime.”

“But if he’s likely to be attacked—”

“A deflector shield surrounds the entire building. Coruscant has learned from its mistakes,” her master replied. “Do as I told you, and get some sleep. Goodnight, Rey.”

He disappeared out of the reception room. Rey stood before Coruscant until her eyes were lidded with sleep. Turning, she hurried back to her borrowed bedchambers. The bed, the furniture, all undisturbed reminded her of her encounter with the Senator. His bare form stood before her again, his fingers holding her wrist and letting go the first moment she asked. 

Storming forward, Rey grabbed two pillows from the bed. Settling down on the carpeted floor, she pressed her head against the pillows and lay on her back, staring up at the blank ceiling. The cloying air stuck to her skin and she wrapped her hands around her waist, her fingers sliding underneath her cotton shirt. It was not a rock, her imagination provided the stars, but it would do.

* * *

Rising sunlight threw itself over the room. She woke quickly, squinting at the daylight. Even with the false air that circulated the room, she felt the planet’s dry heat. She clambered to her feet. The traffic had not ebbed but increased in the night. Undressing, she found the refresher and showered, wrapping herself in a white woollen towel. She padded out. The water from her hair trailed in droplets down her back and shoulders, catching in the thick nerf-wool. Her damp feet soaked the carpet.

“Mistress Rey!”

She jumped at the bright genial sound of Threepio, already stood in the centre of the room. He held up a hand in greeting.

“Senator Organa has invited you and Master Luke to take breakfast with him on the balcony. He also invites you to choose some clothes from the wardrobe.” Threepio gestured. “He says they’re all in your size, but as I am a droid designed for human-cyborg relations, I cannot confirm. Master Luke has the same in his rooms. Breakfast will be served in a few minutes.”

Rey glanced towards where Threepio had gestured, to her right where a door had been opened. She peered past the boundary. The wardrobe was filled with silks and satins and velvets. The outfits of a senator. She stepped back and sat on the bed. Her clothes, the jacket of grey cloth and white cotton shirt, her wool boots, lay scattered on the floor.

When she arrived at the breakfast, she found her master dressed in his white robes and freshly shaven. His long grey hair was washed and brushed. He drank tea, the offered food as yet untouched. Senator Organa was dressed in robes of blue navy, the stiff collar high and a silver chain across his chest, holding the hem of a dark grey cloak. His hair was brushed back into a bun, and he wore leather gloves. He gave a throaty laugh, glancing between the two of them.

“Is my generosity that offensive to Jedi palettes?” he asked, scanning Rey’s appearance of her grey jacket and white shirt. Rey sat between them at the circular table. Panna cakes lay piled high on a plate, along with butter and carbosyrup, hotcakes, Quor’sav-fried steak, omelets, fruits, and against herself, Rey’s stomach rumbled. Senator Organa laughed, picking out a Mandolorian orange and starting to eat. He leant back in his chair. Behind him, Coruscant’s sun rose higher.

He raised an eyebrow to Rey. “Dig in.”

Without reply, Rey began her breakfast with two panna cakes and sweetberries. As she poured a spoonful of carbosyrup over the panna cakes, her master spoke. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Senator Organa reluctantly slide his gaze towards him.

“Perhaps it might be best to go over the safety procedures for tonight’s ball, Senator,” her master began, his tone implying no rejection would be welcomed. Receiving no protest, he continued as he drank. “Rey and I will be your main escorts, but there will be guards at every entrance and exit throughout the time of the ball. The opera house building has no protection like 500 Republica, so extra vigilance will be necessary. Rey, you will patrol the perimeters. I will act as the Senator’s bodyguard and ask for regular reports. Questions?”

Rey set down her cutlery. The silver clinked against the delicate porcelain. “Forgive me, Master, but this seems a lot of effort for a single ball.”

“The Resistance needs more support. Senators in the pocket of the First Order, carrying their credits in their pockets, are springing up every day.” Senator Organa’s tone was dark, his words sharp. He rose to his feet, leant against the balcony, staring at the landscape of Coruscant. “Effort is necessary.”

“That can’t be right,” Rey retorted, glancing to her master. He rubbed his chin but said nothing. Perhaps this was not a fight he thought necessary. She shifted in her seat, returning her gaze to the Senator. “The Galactic Senate is there to help the people. They wouldn’t support a cause like the First Order.”

Senator Organa eyed her. His smirk returned. “Coruscant officials only put up the shield around 500 Republica a number of months ago. Just as the First Order’s shadow began to spread. You’ve spent too long with the Force.”

Rey shot to her feet. “Where is it you go?”

A silence fell over the table. Artoo, stood at his master’s side, beeped. Threepio let out a small ‘oh dear’. Her palms pressed into the edge of the table as she leant forward. She felt her master’s hand touch at her arm.

“Rey—”

“Of a night?” she pressed. “Han told us. You leave Coruscant. Where do you go?”

The Senator’s expression darkened. Once more he looked like the boy she knew, but all at once, for the first time, all too adult. At once, he was too distant and too close. The silence became a pregnant intimacy, swelling and growing until it was something that pressed hard on her chest. Her breathing quickened, her nostrils flared as she stared back at the Senator.

His frown lightened.

“Caused a stir first time I did it,” he remarked brightly, strolling past the table. Briefly, he leant down and picked a sweetberry from her plate. He rolled the fruit between his gloved finger and thumb before he popped it into his mouth, chewing. “Eat up. It’s a long day ahead.”

“Rey, that was unnecessary.”

“He was—”

Luke rose to his feet. His eyes were hard. “It was unnecessary.”

Rey swallowed. Her hand trembled against the thick tablecloth. She drew her fingers tight into her palm, holding on tight. The Force calmed, her anger mellowed for the moment. Her breath shook as she stroked her forehead. Threepio stared at her.

“Oh dear, oh dear. That didn’t go very well at all.”

She sat. When she ate, the sweet panna cake felt sour. Coruscant’s hum filled her ears.

* * *

The planet’s heat fuelled a day of meetings for the Senator. Rey kept to her borrowed rooms, sat among pillows on the floor in her preferred pose, losing herself within the Force until she thought nothing of politics and duties and sweetberries.

When she opened her eyes again, her calm was a blanket around her shoulders, well-worn and well-loved, its warmth running alongside the pulse in her blood.

The doors to the rooms opened. Her master entered. A look of thunder was in his features, heavier than she’d ever seen them. He aimed a dark look at the Senator as he strolled in, chin tilted up and his hands folded in front of him. He wore the same navy blue robes, but his hair was down. His eyes glinted with an idea. Rey took in a breath, drawing the blanket tighter around her body. The Senator’s brown eyes found her. For a moment, the blanket fell from her and she felt as if she was exposed, bare before him. She gathered the calm and centred it until she could focus on him.

“I’ve an idea I told my uncle, but he doesn’t seem—” the Senator gave a short laugh, “amused by the idea. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What is it?” Rey asked, sliding her gaze towards her master. The Senator gave the answer.

“I’ve got a problem. My bloodline is seen as a problem to be erased. By others, it’s seen as an opportunity – to propose the idea of alignment. I want to kerb such ideas. Focus on drumming up support for the Resistance instead of wasting my time with ambassadors for some Outer Rim planet nobody’s heard of trying to foist their daughters onto me. For that, I need a plus one.”

Her mask of calm slipped into an incredulous wrinkle of her nose. “You want  _me_  to be your plus one?”

“Anyone else would raise gossip. You’re plain enough not to draw attention.”

“It won’t happen,” Luke declared. His voice was firm. “Rey is my padawan and a good fighter. She will—”

“Attend the ball as my guest. Tell me, Uncle, you told my mother that the Jedi would always help the Resistance, yes? I am Senator Ben Organa, the official representative of the Resistance in the Galactic Senate, and I require this assistance. Am I clear?”

“I’m not doing it.”

The Senator whirled on her.

“You’re refusing me?”

“Tell those ambassadors no, you won’t marry their daughters. I am your guard, as my master has charged me.”

“And so I must risk them denying the Resistance any support when the time for battle comes?”

Luke’s look mellowed. The Senator continued. With every word, his languid nature left him, stripping him of the teasing, stubborn arrogance until he was stood before her again with clenched fists and a tightly drawn jaw, forcing every word out against his passion. “A battle is coming. The truce with the First Order has been built on unstable ground. It won’t last. The Resistance needs every piece of support it can get. And though I could try, I can’t be married to fifteen women. I don’t ask this of you on a whim. I am ordering it. You will be my guest tonight, Rey. That’s the end of the matter.”

His cloak whirled around his boots as he turned. He stormed from the rooms, leaving it in silence.

Rey stubbornly shook her head, though the Senator’s words rang and his image echoed in her head.

“I’m not doing it, master. I can’t.”

“I know. But the Senator is right. A battle is coming. The First Order is growing faster than can be contained – you know what happened to Jakku. A minor rebellion and a whole village wiped out as punishment. We need to help the Resistance, in any way possible.”

She felt her stubbornness weaken, walls of stone being taken apart brick by brick. An evening of standing by the Senator’s side, Ben’s side, smiling for him and playing politics. She was a warrior. She was not designed for intrigue. She ached for Ahch-To as she nodded.

“The Jedi will always help the Resistance,” she murmured. Her master’s fingers stroked through her hair, as if she was ten years old again, hardened by Jakku’s sands and weeping because she had travelled so far for a fruitless dream. He kissed her forehead and she was still ten years old, dressed in rags with a new path before her.

Readying herself for the party that night, alone in her bedchamber, she stood before a mirror. The dress was gold Dramassian shimmersilk, made one-shouldered with smooth lines. A wide skirt that began at the top of her hip and came to flutter around her feet. She had scooped her hair, longer since she had left Jakku, around one shoulder, pinning the natural brown waves in place at her nape.

In her hands, she felt the weight of her lightsaber. It never felt heavy in her hands or in its home at her hip, whatever the burden they endured. Without it, she felt a portion of her was missing, the portion that had been taken away and returned to her in the Jedi temple when her lightsaber had first hummed and swung through the air with her every movement.

Walking out of her rooms, she greeted the Senator with a cordial nod. The Senator offered out his arm. She blinked, scanning him. Senator Organa scoffed.

“You’re my guest,” he explained. “At least let me treat you like one.”

Gingerly, she took his arm. The memory of him stood over her, bare, whispering a demand for her to call him Senator, briefly found her. She blinked the memory away as they came to a stop outside the turbolift. Her master approached. He was dressed in more formal robes, coloured black with a low stiff collar at his neck. His lightsaber was attached to his hip, and he gave a curt nod to them both.

The doors to the turbolift opened and the three of them stepped inside. Threepio and Artoo gave their respective goodbyes as they began their descent.

* * *

The ball, hosted at the Galaxies Opera House, was a crush of chatter and colours, metallic shades side by side with brighter colours. Jewels and thread were embroidered into skirts and sleeves. High above them, Mon Calamari floated as they performed high in the dome of the opera house. Their balletic movements shimmered underneath the surface of the water. Below lavish drinks and the rich food was served by decorated humanoids and Twi’leks. Protocol droids lingered by their masters, introducing dignitary to dignitary.

Rey wiped sweat from her forehead, bending down to tug her skirt from underneath the incoming heel of a black-haired, brown-eyed woman who smiled and laughed within the crush. Her silvery robes swished as she strolled ahead of Rey, sliding easily into another conversation.

The Senator walked ahead, his large form easily forging a path through. Humans and others alike glanced at him. Some smiled, others turned their heads away. Rey slipped past the dignitaries and ambassadors. Some called out eagerly, rushing to embrace their allies. Others murmured about the growing conflict between Populists and Centrists. Ben came to a stop before a dark-skinned woman. Not speaking to anyone, she scanned the guests surrounding her. Her garments were the dark uniform of the Resistance, and her black hair was brushed back. Her demeanour was elegant, her features calm. Seeing the Senator approach, she straightened herself. One hand behind her back, she offered out a hand.

“Senator Organa,” she said crisply. The Senator greeted her with a nod.

“Korr Sella. My mother sent you?”

“As a stopover, yes Senator. I’m to go to Hosnian Prime. General Organa wishes me to make the case for Republic action.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t gone herself.”

“General Organa is aware of what will happen if she steps on to Hosnian Prime’s surface,” Korr said quietly, eyeing the guests close by. “And your place here is too valuable for absences, Senator.”

“As ever. But she’s heard my request?”

“Every time,” Korr Sella said, with a ghost of a smile at the corner of her lips. She disappeared back into the crowd. Rey came to a stop at Ben’s side, staring after Korr.

“My mother’s aide,” Ben supplied. “Her duties include stopping me from ever leaving this rock.”

Rey arched an eyebrow and gave a thin smile. Ben’s pale face was dappled pink by the performance above. “You don’t seem to let that stop you.”

Ben sniffed and waved a hand. His gaze passed over her. “Go and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Wordlessly, she took a step closer to him and slid her arm underneath his. She gave a faux sweet smile in return to his scowl.

“I’m your guest,” she said brightly. She tilted her head, keeping her attention fixed firmly on her charge. “I wouldn’t be a very good one if I wandered off.”

He bent his head until his lips hovered against her ear and his breath was warm on her neck. “You forget my uncle.”

She inclined her neck, finding him and lifting her eyes. He remained still, his eyes flickering, but his features were stone.

“I know  _you_ ,” she said, reticent to his silence. She breathed, her chest rising and falling. Ben’s arm slid from hers, but his fingers curled to cup her elbow. He urged her forward towards the exit of the opera house, out into Coruscant’s noise.

He let her go when they came to the edge of the balcony. A landing pad allowed for speeders and ships. Guards from different masters mingled in corners, spinning their hats around on their fingers or brushing the dust from their uniforms. Some huddled together in small groups a distance away from the landing pad, sharing cigarettes.

“It was a mistake to bring you here,” Ben hissed, stepping back from her. Rey let the sting fade and straightened.

“It’s not as if I’ve been any use to you.”

“Many an ambitious ambassador’s retreated at the sight of you.” His sharp tone softened with a smile. Rey realised with a jolt that his anger, quickly faded, hadn’t been aimed at her. It had been aimed at himself.

“Then your order worked,” she remarked, brushing away her feelings at the realisation. She leant against the curved balcony, pressing her palms against the metal railings.

“I’ve got good ideas, on occasion.”

“Only on occasion.”

A breeze whipped at her pinned hair. Brushing strands from her face, Rey turned away from the balcony. She found him glancing over his shoulder, his eyes up. He studied the speeders overhead, and his brown eyes, now black in the evening light, reflected Coruscant’s lights.

Once he’d been her friend. The student who taught her and learned with her. When he spoke out of turn or tripped up on his words, he’d gained the habit of looking up, as if begging the Force itself for help. All that was missing from the current picture before her was the blush that always found the tips of his ears.

Now before her was a Senator, grown into his height and profile, the awkwardness gone and replaced by learned calm.

His brown eyes swept towards her, losing Coruscant’s reflected light. The space between his brows creased.

“How long has it been?”

“Since what?”

“You know.”

She let out a breath. “Six months.”

“Seems longer. I’ve been sending holos to my uncle.”

“He tells me of them, on occasion,” Rey replied offhandedly. Hearing her tone, she cleared her throat. “I heard talk of the conflict between the Populists and the Centrists back there. Is it as bad as I think?”

“Likely.”

She looked at him again, fully looked at him, and found exhaustion in the calm. “The Jedi—”

“Will always help the Resistance. I’ve heard that before,” the Senator said. His hand held her elbow again. “Come on. You’ve got proposals to—”

“HELP!” The scream had the guards running. The Senator’s hand flew towards his hip, sliding against the silk. Bejewelled guests scattered from the entrance, the soft singing of the Mon Calamari mixed in with terrified screams. Red blaster bolts flew over their heads as a figure, swathed in black, broke through the crush and out onto the landing pad.  

Rey shoved her skirt to her side, reaching for the lightsaber strapped to her thigh. The smooth white blade hummed as she switched it on and she kicked off her shoes, running across the duracrete. The black-clad figure lifted their blaster, shooting twice, three times. Rey spun her blade in smooth arcs, deflecting the bolts. The assassin fired again.

“Senator, hide!” Rey shouted as she deflected the new set of bolts and sprinted forward. The black-clad figure turned on their heel and ran. Rey followed, her feet slamming into the duracrete, the silken skirt flapping around her aching legs. The silken material shifted, tightening against her lithe body. In the corner of her eye, she spotted her master’s blue lightsaber. He surged ahead of her, his eyes firmly on the assassin.

“Rey, take Ben back to his apartments, now!”

“But—” Police droids rushed past her, catching up to Luke.

“There’s no time!” her master barked, already running in the direction of the assassin. “Now!”

Rey skidded to a halt, watching as Luke disappeared into the crowd of Coruscant. Switching off her lightsaber, her shoulders sinking forward, she turned and returned to the Senator. Her shoes lay scattered on the duracrete; the Senator grinned at the corner of his mouth. Seeing it before he could explain it, she grabbed him and held his weight. Pressing her hand over his, his blood seeping onto her fingers, she looked about wildly for a speeder.

“Is it deep?”

“If it was deep, there’d be no pain,” the Senator groaned. Rey rolled her eyes and shifted, taking more of his weight.

“Can you walk?”

The Senator put one shaky foot forward. His weight lightened. Hissing, he blasted a soft laugh. In it, there was a hint of a Ben she’d refused to watch leave.

“I’ve got rusty.”

“Obviously you haven’t been spending enough time with the Force."

* * *

She left him sprawled on the floor of the reception room with the order to keep pressing the wound. He obeyed with a nod and she hurried out into the corridor.

“Threepio, do we have bacta patches?”

“In Senator Organa’s refresher – it’s in the study. Oh, do be careful! I hope it isn’t too serious, the General will be very concerned—” Rey left Threepio’s chattering, running into the study and into the refresher. Finding the bacta patches, she ran back to the reception room and knelt by Ben’s side.

Unclipping his cloak, her fingers fumbled over the fastenings of his tunic, exposing his torso. The blaster bolt had hit his side, not fatal by itself. Blood pooled on the luxurious carpet. Rey slapped the patch against the wound, pressing it down, securing it. Underneath her, Ben groaned.

“Can you move?” she asked softly. After a moment, he nodded. Wincing, he stood. He limped towards one of the sofas, sinking his body down into the plush furnishing. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The area around the patch was marked with streaks of drying blood, his fingerprints left where he’d clutched at the wound.

She expected to remember old bouts, him tending to her injuries after she’d allowed her passion to overtake and her adrenaline had got the better of her. However much she willed them, the memories didn’t come. All she saw before her was the Senator, injured.

“It wasn’t one of the deflected bolts,” he murmured, opening one eye to look at her. His hair was tangled from the speeder’s flight and he ran his free hand through it. He hid his wince at the movement. Rey remained silent, but she couldn’t hide her feelings well enough. At her disapproval, he smirked. He returned to his settled, slumped pose and closed his eyes. His smirk widened.

“Are you that concerned about me, Jedi?”

“You’re my charge, Senator,” Rey replied coolly. “Threepio can tend to anything you need. I’m getting out of this dress.”

His blood soaked its left side from when she had taken his weight. Her skirts twisted and flurried out behind her as she turned.

“Never said – it looks good on you,” the Senator called after her.  Something hitched in her throat, strangling her breath at the sound of his voice. It was something new, something old and something familiar. Clenching her fists, she left the reception room as Threepio hurried inside. Artoo beeped playfully at her.

Despite herself, she remembered how the lights had reflected in the Senator’s eyes and she smiled.

* * *

When she was back in her Jedi robes, the silken gold dress hung up at the back of the wardrobe, she returned to the reception room to find it empty, save for a deactivated Threepio and the scattered cloak and tunic. Turning on her heel, Rey headed for the study. The Senator had changed; now he wore only a black top, trousers and hard leather boots. He had pulled his hair back into a bun and sat at his desk, thumbing through a datapad.

Clearly, the bacta patch was working well.

The Senator glanced up at her entry. He cocked an eyebrow as she walked towards the desk.

“Threepio?” she asked before he could speak.

“Decided to give him a break.”

“You a break. I’ve yet to receive a thank you, by the way.”

“Could say that. No report from Korr Sella yet. Nor Luke.” He scanned the datapad. “Thanks, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused as the Senator dropped his datapad onto the desk. He peered at her, studying her the same way he had studied Coruscant’s skies.

“You have a white lightsaber.” He spoke plainly, bluntly, as was his family’s trait. Rey nodded. Her hand strayed to her hip, brushing over the lines of her lightsaber’s hilt.

“When I went to make it, to Ilum—” A deep pain flickered across his eyes. She trailed off, wrenching her hand from her lightsaber and crossing her arms over her chest. For the first time, her lightsaber felt awkward at her side. For as long as he looked at her, it continued to. Only a few days it had been, before his own trip to Ilum, his mother had sent a holo with a firm, sincere order. (Sometimes, when the grief had been too much to contain, she had found the recording and watched it under the cover of the stars, far away from her master and the younglings. She had done the same thing with her parents, letting her grief only find her in dreams. The recording watched, she would return it and fold away the grief after that. She stuffed it into a corner of her mind and forgot for as long as she could.)

She gestured hopelessly at his boots, visible underneath the desk’s glass surface.

“Your boots,” she started, without knowing how the sentence would end. She chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know – but, in those – you look more like the Jedi I remember.”

The confession hung. Rey’s cheeks flushed. After a moment of silence, she turned on her heels.

“Goodnight, Senator,” she said, not looking back.

“Ben.” The command followed her out of the room. She swallowed, straightening.

“Ben,” she whispered.

* * *

The events of the evening caused her to sleep deeply in her nest on the carpet of her rooms, and she woke late. After a hurried visit to the refresher, she left her rooms dressed in her Jedi robes and wandered the corridors. Breakfast was again being taken on the balcony. Her master was deep in conversation with Ben, who wore the same garments as the previous evening. Bags had crept underneath his eyes, and his bun was mussed from brief snatches of sleep.

“—we managed to capture the assassin in Coruscant’s underworld,” her master was saying. Rey quashed her relief and sat at the breakfast table between her master and Ben, quietly setting about serving herself. When she reached for the plate of panna cakes, Ben passed it without question, still listening to Luke.

Her master took a portion of steak, cutting into it. “The victim’s name was Tiro Selanne. A Populist senator, and loyal to the Resistance.”

Ben gave a sombre nod. “I’ve heard his speeches in the Senate before. Back when I was still welcome on Hosnian Prime. The assassin?”

“Human. Identity unconfirmed as yet, but I don’t sense the truth lies in the assassin. This wasn’t an independent action.” Her master’s expression darkened. His suspicions were clear. “I have a bad feeling that darker forces are at play.”

“You believe it was the First Order?” Rey asked.

“Not directly. Ben, the First Order is growing at an inordinate rate – Coruscant is no longer safe for you.”

“It won’t be safe for any politicians,” Rey interrupted. “If they’re now willing to kill a senator in such a public place—”

Luke nodded. “Politicians known for being loyal to the Resistance are leaving Coruscant in their droves. Look at the landing pad.”

Standing, Rey hurried to Ben’s side. She found the landing pad, far below them. Cloaked figures hurried from the turbolifts towards plain freight ships, shadowed by guards who had blasters already withdrawn.

Ben scoffed. He turned back to his uncle.

“I’m here to support the Resistance. What kind of message would it be if I ran at the first sight of danger?”

“A call to arms,” Luke replied. “That you are prepared to sacrifice your pride for the coming fight. A fight is coming Ben, and that shield will only protect you so long.”

“I’m not hiding,” Ben hissed, storming towards his uncle. The Force vibrated with his anger, a white hot heat building. “And I’m not running.”

“Your pride will bring harm. To you and to others.” Luke was that same blunt calm. The vibration was reaching a breaking point. “You must leave Coruscant.”

“ _I'm not leaving!_ ” At the final word, an empty plate lifted from the table and spun out over the balcony, a blur heading off into the distance before it smashed against the shield. Blue-lilac tendrils rippled out over the shield as the broken plate fell down the levels into Coruscant’s darkness.

Ben sighed heavily. The sound shook. He stormed back into the apartment, leaving Rey and Luke behind.

* * *

“You agree with him.” Ben lifted his head as she entered the study. Laid on his bed, his arm was thrown over his eyes, but he lifted it, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her. He tilted his head. “Don’t you?”

Rey held her hands at her sides. She frowned, her eyes narrowed. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“An hour.”

Calmly, she strolled towards the bed. “Where’d you go?”

His eyes changed, shifting into impishness; the Force around him calmed, ebbing back into its normal state. The anger had begun to fade, replaced by a spike of desire, to show her something. To help her see. Laid on his bed, with a smirk on his lips, he looked alone.

Rey stumbled back. A strangled disbelieving gasp made its way from her throat.

“You want – to show me?”

Ben leapt up from the bed, walking over to her. He came to a stop before her, looming over her and bending his head to see her. He shrugged. “You asked.”

He offered his hand.

Gently, Rey swallowed. His hand engulfed her small one, his fingers clumsily clasping around her wrist. In all the time they had spent together, listening to the shores of Ahch-To, she hadn’t held his hand. Memories of Unkar Plutt, holding her back as she tried to run across the sands to a ship she couldn’t remember recognising, prevented it. Holding a hand meant grip, meant holding on.

She slid her hand away. She took a breath.

“Show me,” she said.

They made their way to the turbolift, avoiding her master and the two droids. Descending the levels down to the landing pad, Ben opened the turbolift doors and jogged out onto the duracrete. Beckoning for her to follow, he led her from the main landing pad around the side of the building. Shade from the 500 Republica tower darkened their path. Rey continued to run, her eyes on Ben’s back.

She only stopped when they came to the back of the building. The noise of the trash compactors in the bowels of the building groaned and creaked. Steam grew up in thick tendrils from vents. In a corner of the back courtyard, a small starship stood, covered by a thick tarpaulin. She spied silver, which gleamed even in the shade.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, eyeing Ben. He did not reply but pulled the tarpaulin from the ship’s body. Rey hid a smile and raised an eyebrow. “It’s an antique.”

“J-type 327 Nubian. Knew you’d approve,” he said, as a hatch opened. Ducking underneath the ship’s underbelly, he climbed aboard. Rey studied the ship’s body as she followed. The chromium body was a sweeping mass of curves, designed to draw the eye. A ship custom made for someone once possessing a loyalty to beauty.

“Don’t know how you managed to evade anyone with this ship,” Rey remarked as she wandered into the cockpit. It was as artistic as its exterior, function and design forged into one.

“Wondered that myself,” Ben said dryly, already at work flicking switches, his hands familiar with the controls and buttons before him. “Then I realised – I didn’t have the right kind of guards.”

She hid a smile. Her hands trembled, excited with the temptation to burrow inside the ship’s belly, among its wires and trappings, to see exactly how it worked, what parts had been replaced or repaired; what was valuable. An old instinct. The engine thrummed into life, the ship lifting up into the air, and her instinct left her.

* * *

The ship’s hatch opened, and Rey sprinted out, feeling the soft sand beneath her boots. It wasn’t like the coarse sand of Jakku, hot and grainy underfoot. The sand on this planet was white and warm and when she kicked off her boots, it sank between her toes as a cool ocean breeze brushed against her face. She pushed back her hair, staring up at the empty sky. White birds flew in a flock overhead, flying towards distant green trees over the crystal blue water. Palaces of yellow stone sat carved into silver mountains.

Her smile faded as she looked closer. One-half of the yellow stone palace had crumbled. Gnarled burned black branches stood among the green.

“The Empire sought to destroy Naboo when the Alliance won. A pathetic retribution, which my mother overcame. The scars of their petulance remain.” Ben’s words were thoughtful. “It will until Naboo can heal itself. Once this was a place of beauty. Culture. That antique came from this place. Its history is all that earns its people a chance to be heard in the Galactic Senate – when they aren’t busy bickering among themselves.”

“There’s another reason you come here,” Rey murmured. She felt Ben standing next to her, felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. His presence was electricity itself. It always had been. A presence connected to her own; it was precious, familiar, unfamiliar and a weapon in the wrong hands. Perhaps that was why she kept her grief secret, supplanting inside the deepest section of her heart and head. Nobody would get it to it then, just as nobody would ever get to the sadness in her master’s eyes.

“My grandmother came from here. Padmé Naberrie. Queen Amidala. My grandfather – he turned to the Dark side for her. He thought he could save her.” He inched closer to her. His fingertips brushed against her palm and the grief she had kept so well hidden—she felt it blooming, growing. Taking up every inch of space that she’d denied it. “I want to finish what he started,” Ben said softly. “I want to save the ones I love.”

“And damn the consequences?” she asked.

“No. What point is there in saving the ones you love if you can’t be with them?”

She turned her palm towards his. Her fingers slid against his. He didn’t tighten his grip or tug at her. He simply let her hold him.

Rey let out a breath, closing her eyes. A truth had been revealed; it was unfair, unjust to deny herself from doing the same.

“I’m sorry. I never said goodbye to you – when you left Ahch-To.” She turned her body, pressing herself into his chest. Her free hand felt his forearm, her fingers stroking the soft material of his top. Strands of his mussed bun fluttered in the breeze. Her toes sank deeper into the warm sand of Naboo. With a soft sigh, she pressed her forehead to his chest, linking her hands with his. “It was only because… because I couldn’t answer you.”

“You’ll be okay without me?” He asked the same question with the same too-playful tone. Her cheeks dimpled with a laugh.

“Ironic. I was fine without you. When I ignored the grief, the knowledge I’d never see you again, I was fantastic.” She shifted her head, looking up at him. She gave a gentle shake of her head. “You’re a gigantic pain in my ass, Ben.”

He chuckled. His hand let hers free, reaching up, up to cup her neck. He bent his head. She reached up on tiptoes. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. She remembered Naboo around them, the scarred planet with a respected history. She sank back onto the heels of her feet, pulling away. His hands fell down to her sides, cupping her hips.

“The Jedi will always be there, Ben.” Her smile widened. “To help the Resistance.”

She would have to confess these truths to her master on their return. That she knew well enough. He would sense their connection within the Force, and she prided herself on not being stupid enough to believe she could make her master doubt the Force.

For that moment, however, she let Ben Organa hold her as they stood in the remains of Naboo.

* * *

As sure as she’d known it on Naboo’s beaches, Luke was stony-faced to her confession. Stood in his rooms, dressed in his grey robes with his lightsaber strapped to his side, he looked ready to take on a hundred of the First Order. Rey folded her arms tight over her chest. She immediately let her arms drop to her sides.

“You can’t have thought it a coincidence that I’ve stalled in my learning since he left. You must’ve seen it.”

Her master was tight-lipped, even as he spoke. “I saw it. But I didn’t want to believe it.” His features softened as his words continued. “You’ve looked happier since we came to Coruscant. Even when you were fighting. Perhaps my teaching… perhaps it’s lacked a critical element.”

With that, he told her the truth. He began to slowly pace and told her his own truth. It was a mystery she knew he had kept locked inside himself for a long time. He spoke of the Emperor, the foreboding figure from the stories, and his father trapped inside the guise of Darth Vader. He spoke of redemption and watching the Light return to his father only for it to spark and fade as death took him in the very same moment. Every word of her master’s truth chipped away at his burden.

“Love is a Jedi’s most powerful weapon,” her master murmured into the lingering silence. The sadness was lightened with the growing knowledge that someone else knew his full story. “When the Jedi restricted it, they suffocated and grew isolated. They collapsed in on themselves.”

She fell into his hug as a child to a father (a mystery long ago solved, long forgotten in the face of the family she’d made on Ahch-To). He stroked her hair and whispered his thanks.

The doors to Luke’s rooms opened. Threepio entered, accompanied by Artoo.

“Master Luke, Senator Organa requests that you join him in his study. At once.”

Rey frowned. “What is it?”

Artoo beeped. Quickly, Rey walked from the chamber into the corridor, turning towards the study.

“Ben?” Luke asked, walking towards the desk alongside her. “Artoo said something about a holo. From my sister.”

“From General Organa, on behalf of the Resistance and the New Republic.” Sliding towards Rey's side, Ben pressed a button. A blue figure of General Organa flickered into life. She was stood alone, dressed in the dark tones of the Resistance, and her dark eyes were stern. She blinked and there was a brief appeal in those same eyes.

“This message is for Senator Ben Organa.” The holo flickered again. “The First Order has destroyed Hosnian Prime. The New Republic is gone. We request that Senator Organa travel to D’Qar as soon as possible.”

Rey glanced at Ben as the holo played. His brow was set into a deep frown, his eyes almost black. The holo reached its loop and played again. Halfway through, Rey privately reached for his hand. She squeezed it tight and held on.

“Ben,” pled General Organa, “come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you wish. Every single kudos, each comment, brings endless joy to this postgrad's quiet life. <3


End file.
